Happy Ending
by SpongeGuy
Summary: Buster and Fern share a fun talk this Christmas. A sneak peak into a story I'll one day make. A gift for Squaresville!


"I am so TIRED of Christmas!"

Buster Baxter, 15 years old and actually growing, observed the similarly aged girl next to him with a knowing smile.

Fern Walters may have become less depressed over the years, but when she thought something she said it!

At least, not only to her closest friends. Now the whole world could hear her.

Rubbing her gloved hands to conserve some heat, Fern continued her rant as Buster continued to shovel in Pringles.

A few purple threads dangled from the hand knitted gloves as Fern breathed on them. "I mean, not of the goodwill stuff, and DEFINITELY not the winter feeling."

Buster nodded, well aware of the fact as he crunched some more snow with his Brown snow boots. "The Fern Walters National Pastime IS reading a good thriller underneath a warm blanket."

Fern jokingly pointed at him. "You forgot the hot cocoa. I thought you knew me better."

Buster didn't need to look to know that a lovable grin was on her face.

Passing the and waving to Alan, Buster had to then duck a pet store cage as Fern continued.

"It's just (Hey, Mr. Armstrong) that I'm not a big fan of all the hubbub and commercilazation of it all!"

Buster tried and failed to suppress a snicker, and Fern took mild offense to that. "Hubbub?"

Fern tried to justify it, but ended up waving it off with a smile. "I guess I could have chosen a better word."

"But all jokes aside, I get you.", Buster said as they stopped for a moment to look at a Christmas Tree being sold at a department store filled with lights and noises and glimmer.

"I mean, I don't even celebrate Christmas anymore.", Buster explained.

"Huh?", Fern asked, actually surprised she didn't know this scrap of information.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?", Buster was surprised too. Fern usually knew.

"My grey cells are taking a winter break, ok?", Fern joked, taking out her Virgil Watteau moustache. "Now, 'and forth the solution, or face the wrath of my stare!"

Buster's heart always grew 3 sizes whenever Fern told a joke. Knowing someone more inclined for serious and thoughtful conversation was willing to go out of her way to make someone laugh (and not just in the bantery way) always warmed him right up.

He offered his explanation immediately. "Well, Mom used to get all jittery over Christmas. She'd wake me up every day in December to celebrate it. Every day!"

Fern chuckled, amused. "And I thought I had Christmas overload!"

"You have no idea, toots!", Buster joked, donning his film noir disguise for a moment.

Fern playfully nudged him, but he could tell by the look on her face that she had nostalgia for the days they'd go out and play detectives with George.

More snow crunching occurred as they got closer to Buster's place.

"Anyhow, after a while I convinced Mom that we could just have a holiday for the two of us, and I called it "Baxter Day". Sang a whole song and everything!"

"And they lived happily ever after. Nicely told, but you really could have used a second act."

Fern pretended to be offended. "Where's the drama? The tension? Will Buster ever have a good Christmas? And your glaring tone! It's so banal, as if this all means nothing to you!"

Buster laughed and threw a glob of snow at her. "Tune in next week for "New Years Eve: The day Buster found Loooove!"

Fern suddenly grew shy, looking more like the 8 year old she once was. "…Yeah…"

Buster tilted his head, curious.

All that separated them was air.

"…What's wrong?"

Fern rolled her eyes at herself. Had she not passed this already?

"I don't know… I know we've been dating for 2 years… Technically. But…"

She turned to him, blushing, and not from the cold.

"I guess it's still a bit weird for me. Like…"

She hugged herself a bit, showing weakness to the one person she felt most safe with.

"…You really like… Love me? You really think I'm worth it?"

If there was one thing Buster hated, it was hearing the most amazing woman in the world beat herself up.

For too long Fern would jump from self defense of her art to resentment of herself. She was always too shy, or too quiet, or not lady like, or too scary.

He was tired of it, frankly.

Fern was who she was: She was a mixture of things, an artist with both funny and serious sides, a poet who was both sad yet snarky.

She was everything he ever wanted.

So now she'd get something nice for Christmas.

"Ok, look, I know you don't like this holiday, but I got you a gift."

Fern raised an eyebrow. "Ok…"

Buster held her. "Close your eyes."

Fern sighed. "Buster, that's cute, but I'm no longer 8, remember?"

"Come on, close 'em!"

Fern almost stifled a laugh. What would she do with him?

"Ok, fine! But this better not be something dumb!"

"Me? Do something dumb? Why, Fern: Surely you know that's all I do!"

Another laugh and she closed her eyes.

As Buster closed his and leaned closer, Fern just had enough time to say "If it's the new Persiommney wicket book, I already read…"

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't a big one. Not even close.

It was a short and sweet peck, but it was followed by a blushing Fern staring into his eyes as he said…

"Forever. I promised it once and I'll promise it again."

He smiled that genuine smile of his and promised with his eyes.

"Forever."

Fern looked away, but she was smiling softly as she grabbed his hand and held tight.

"I know."

She sighed, but happily, and suddenly, kissed him on the cheek, eliciting a surprised smile from him.

"…Me too."

And so, hands clasped tight, they walked off to Buster's place.

Together forever.


End file.
